


i'm only young (but that was long ago)

by kasprina



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: 5 Times, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Good Older Sibling Jason Todd, Good Older Sibling Tim Drake, Grief/Mourning, I promise, Implied/Referenced Character Death, canon is a lie, my bread and butter respectively, they all love each other dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 11:21:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasprina/pseuds/kasprina
Summary: Five times the Robins grieved for each other and one time they didn't.Habit and muscle memory brought him here, made his hand shove the door open. But then he saw the room and words died on his lips. It was always tidy. No reason why it wouldn't be now.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 90





	i'm only young (but that was long ago)

**Author's Note:**

> _I tried to run but I was much too slow  
>  I'm only young but that was long ago  
> The air was cool and now it burns my lungs  
> Stings my eyes and stills my tongue  
> -Chihiro by Yoste _

**1**

Habit and muscle memory brought him here, made his hand shove the door open. But then he saw the room and words died on his lips. It was always tidy. No reason why it wouldn't be now. 

But now there was something about the order, something about how the books were sorted and the desk was organized and the bed was made with a backpack ready and waiting at the foot of it that felt like a kick in the chest. 

He took two steps into the dark room and froze in place, toes curling uncomfortably in his socks, fingers clenching around the fabric in his hands, tracing the seams. It was thick and soft, still smelling of life unlike the stale air. 

It belonged here. But at the same time it felt like an intrusion to add it. It felt like  _ he _ was an intrusion too and that just made his blood boil. Because he'd never been a stranger here before. He'd been welcome. But now...now there was no one to welcome him. 

His grip tightened. Should've been more observant before he left. Could've seen it then, dropped between moving boxes and his closet. Could've given it back sooner. Could've–

“Dick?” Bruce's shadow fell across his. “What are you doing up?” 

Dick turned sharp on his heel, holding out the hoodie as if it were an explanation. “I found it in my room." A strange look passed over Bruce's face. "He left it in my room. And I wanted to return it." 

Dick kept talking because Bruce had to understand. The only reason he had his hoodie was because he must have gone into Dick's room while he was gone. Maybe he missed Dick, maybe he was hiding out from chores, maybe the light for reading really was better in Dick's window seat than his like he always insisted. 

Bruce had to understand why he was standing in the middle of Jason's room holding Jason's hoodie but with no Jason in sight. 

"It was his favorite so he needs it. Dad, he needs it.” Dick pleaded and when he tried to speak again tears choked him, driving him to his knees. 

“There, there. I've got you chum.” Bruce whispered as he knelt and pulled the Dick and the hoodie into a hug. 

“I wasn't here to give it to him before.” Harsh, ugly sobs shook Dick's body. “ _ I wasn't here _ .” 

Dick had rushed home after Alfred called but it didn't matter. Jason was gone. He’d never get to walk into his room again, never smack Dick with his stupidly heavy backpack as he raced off to school, never whine about someone messing up his tidy desk or barge into Dick’s room to read. 

Never wear his favorite hoodie again while he and Dick did cartwheels on the roof at midnight.

“It's not your fault Dick.” Bruce soothed, rubbing his back. At some point he scooped Dick up and was carrying him back to his room. 

“I'm not a baby.” Dick protested between hiccuping breaths. “‘M in college.” Bruce simply held him tighter. 

Once he was in bed he tried to give the hoodie to Bruce but his dad gently pushed it back. He looked impossibly sad. When did he get those wrinkles? Had his shoulders always seemed so hunched? 

“You should hang on to it chum.” Bruce said, still sitting on the edge of the bed.

So Dick did, curling around it like a lifeline, missing the bold smile of the boy who'd worn it.

  
  


**2**

Gotham was quiet for once and Jason hated the city for it. Tonight was a night he wouldn't have minded a knuckle busting brawl. Needed one to clear his mind. To chase this heavy weight from his chest. But with nothing to distract himself, he finally called it a night and headed back to his apartment. 

He climbed in his window and immediately reached for his gun. The living room was dark but he could hear breathing. Keeping the gun trained at the sound, Jason flipped the light on. 

Sprawled on his stomach across the mediocre sofa, asleep and half covered by a blanket, was Dick. He was wearing joggers and an athletic hoodie, worn sneakers discarded at the foot of the couch. 

Jason heaved a sigh. "Tell me you didn't  _ actually _ run all the way here, Dickface." Holstering the gun, he crouched by Dick, pushing limp, dull hair away from eyes that were puffy and red. “When you let yourself go, you  _ really _ let go, huh Goldie?” A bandage was clumsily wrapped around his head, half hidden by hair, and there was heavy stubble on Dick’s normally clean shaven face. 

He tucked the blanket up around Dick’s shoulders and headed to the kitchen to see if he still had frozen soup from Alfred in the freezer. Big Bird probably hadn’t eaten all day. 

As he heated it, a quiet voice in the back of his mind asked if Dick acted the same way after his death. The thought was brief but made Jason physically shake his head to clear it. Seeing Dick like this, the steady big brother brought low, was unnerving enough. 

Dick was awake when Jason walked in with two steaming bowls, laying on his back now as blue eyes flickering around the room in blatant confusion. Christ, how did he even make it here if he’s so out of it? 

“You’re in my apartment. Here’s dinner.” Jason clarified as he set the bowls on the coffee table.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath as awareness flooded him at all once. “Dami…” He whispered and his face crumbled. Jason knelt by his head again and gathered his brother into his arms. With a rattling sob, Dick pressed his face to his neck, arms hanging limp over his shoulders. 

“I was  _ right there _ Jay. I tried but I–I hit my head. Couldn’t get up fast enough. Was out too long. And he was–” he sobbed again and now clutched at Jason desperately. “He looked so  _ small _ .” 

There was nothing Jason could say that wasn’t empty and patronizing in the face of Dick’s anguish. Instead he held him until his breathing evened out. Then he pressed the now lukewarm bowl into Dick’s hands and, when that was empty, a water bottle. 

Game shows played on the shitty tv as Dick sank back onto the couch, burying himself in the blanket, head on Jason’s thigh and Jason let him, knew Dick needed the touch so he laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder for good measure. 

Right before the sitcom reruns with their stupid, taunting, happy families could start, Jason turned off the tv and bodily hauled Dick to the bedroom, pushing him into the bed with another water bottle. The bandage Dick wore desperately needed to be fixed but Jason had a feeling messing with it was a bad idea tonight.

“Lights on or off?” He asked. 

It took a moment before Dick whispered “Off.” The room plunged into darkness aside from the neon glow leaking through his ratty blinds, outlining Dick’s profile in soft purple. He was unnaturally still as Jason climbed into bed beside him. 

“Do you think,” Dick whispered after a few minutes, “Do you think he knew that I...that he was loved?”

Jason rolled over to face him. Dick was staring at the ceiling but even in the dim light Jason could see his eyes were distant. “You loved that kid better than any of us. Of course he knew.” Dick didn’t respond. Jason could only imagine the terrible things his mind was throwing at him. Hell, he wasn’t nearly as close with Damian but he’d still been out chasing a fight to soothe his own guilt. “Sleep Dickiebird. You need to rest.” 

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” A tremor entered Dick’s voice again. No doubt fueled by a fear that he’d open his eyes to see another brother dead. Jason felt for Dick’s arm, tracing it until he found his hand and squeezed hard. Red-rimmed eyes swung to meet his as the pressure was returned.

“Right here. Promise.”

  
  


**3**

Tim’s laying on his side, clutching a pillow with the blanket pulled up to his chin. Perfectly comfortable but unable to sleep. His mind is roaring. Not even the trusty melatonin he took was shutting his body down this time and he was starting to wonder if Bruce or Alfred would notice if he raided the medicine cabinet for something stronger. Like a horse tranquilizer. Because the plans and scenarios and what ifs swirling through his head were eating him alive. 

Along with the stupidly desperate wish that the last time he'd seen Dick’s face, seen his big brother  _ alive _ , he would've been smiling. 

There was a soft knock at the door and then a muffled, “Babybird?” 

“Come in.” Tim said, surprised at how hoarse his voice was.

Jason slipped in and stood awkwardly by the door. “Just wanted to check on you.” He said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Tim sat up against the headboard, hugging the pillow to his chest, and patted the empty space beside him. Jason hesitated then sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, looking everywhere but at Tim. “How you doing, Timbers?” 

He shrugged. “Not great. The Manor feels wrong. Bruce won't leave the cave. I caught Alfred crying in the kitchen. But then again, I could be worse off after seeing my brother tortured on prime time television.” 

Jason flinched violently and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Tim–” 

“Sorry. Sorry I–I can't think about it too hard or...it's just easier this way.” 

Slowly, Jason reached out and briefly squeezed his ankle. “I know, kid. Me too.” 

Tim bit his lip. “He always made a big deal about how losing any of us would break the family but I don't think he realized…” Tim trailed off and swallowed hard, swiping at his eyes. So he did have tears left after all. “How are you doing?” He asked once his throat unclenched. 

Jason gave a half shrug. “Went out to drink myself stupid. Couldn't bring myself to order more than a beer and I barely drank half before I could hear his nagging. Every time I tried to smoke today I saw that glare. Still such a pain in the ass.” He chuckled half-heartedly before lapsing back into uncomfortable silence. 

“You know,” Tim picked at his nails. A thought had been nagging him all day, ever since he’d dragged himself back to the manor. “We're the last ones.” Jason finally looked at him, raised an eyebrow. “The last Robins.” Tim whispered. “Kind of funny isn't it? After all that's happened, all we have left is each other.” He could feel his chin wobbling and as much as he tried to fight it, the rest of his face began betraying him too. 

“'s alright Timmers.” The bed dipped as Jason moved to sit beside him, throwing an arm around his shaking shoulders as Tim pressed his face into the pillow. “At least I'm not trying to kill you anymore.” A wet laugh burst from Tim as he leaned against body armour. “We'll manage Timmy. Promise you that.” 

Knowing his face was a blotchy mess again, Tim lifted his head as Jason dumped a tissue box in his lap. “Did you really come here just to check on me?” 

“Yeah.” Jason said, arm still around him, a strange look in his eyes.  _ It’s what Dick would’ve done. _ hung unspoken in the air and it made Tim want to laugh hysterically for some reason. 

“Are you staying overnight?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

Tim nodded. “It's too quiet here. We could use a little chaos.” 

“Babybird, be careful what you wish for.” Jason scrubbed his knuckles playfully through Tim's hair then climbed off the bed. “Drink some water or you'll regret it in the morning.” He pulled out his lighter and began flicking it rhythmically as he wandered towards the small couch across the room. 

“You can smoke out the window if you want.” Tim offered as he lay back down, limbs finally feeling heavy. “I don't mind. At least not tonight.” 

“Thanks.” In an unexpectedly considerate move, Jason slid the furthest window open. A flame sparked to life, cigarette hovering just out of it's reach for a long minute. At last Jason lit it, leaning out as he took a long drag with closed eyes, face tilted up towards the inky sky. He held the smoke in for so long Tim thought he’d swallowed it before blowing it out in a soft stream and taking another drag. 

It wasn’t until the glow of the cigarette reflected in tear tracks that Tim looked away from the private moment and buried his head under the blanket. History said he shouldn't believe Jason Todd's promise, shouldn't close his eyes around the Red Hood. But that was then and truthfully, all Tim cared about right now was that he still had one brother here.

  
  


**4**

Life isn't fair. 

It was one of the first lessons Damian had been taught. A constant companion growing up in the League of Assassins. Sure, they merited out justice, the powerful triumphed over the weak as expected. But there were so many times when he questioned why, pushed past power and training, saw a favorite teacher cut down, and always met the same answer. 

Life isn't fair. 

Gotham taught him that too. Seeing innocent people getting caught up in a villain’s schemes, a stray bullet from a drive-by or a natural disaster claiming lives, a father too late to save his son. 

But there are always exceptions. Moments when it seemed so fair, so right, so blindingly full of hope. Richard liked to point them out.  _ “Look on the bright side.” _ Was how Dick started so many conversations. It made Damian start looking for those moments without realizing it.

Even on his worst days, Nightwing was looking for the good in people, trying to believe the best of humanity. Seeking the kindness of life. And if anyone deserved kindness it was Richard. The world and life  _ owed _ it to him after all it had put him through. Instead this happened.

It wasn't fair. 

It was the black spot on another wise joyful homecoming. See everyone there, father, Todd, Drake, even Gordon. But not... 

Damian pressed a hand to the glass case. It was cold. Sterile. Impersonal. Everything that Richard was not. Richard is...had been...warmth, open, a light. 

The suit wasn't the one he'd been wearing, Todd said they'd mended that one and buried him in it. Then he’d tried to say more but cut himself off, glaring at the ground and shaking his head as Drake quietly explained the rest. Part of Damian was glad he didn’t have those memories. 

This suit was older, one Damian hadn't seen him wear since he'd arrived here. But still, it felt like him. Had the sweeping blue symbol of his family that Richard had shown him in an old photo one day. 

_ “It’s like carrying a piece of them. Their legacy. Just like you do with the Robin suit.” _

Damian sat at the foot of the case, staring up at the legacy of the man he’d called brother. Who would carry it for him now? 

Soft footsteps echoed behind him and then Drake was sitting on his left. He didn't say anything, simply brushed their shoulders together as he gazed at the suit too. Damian waited several minutes to see what the other boy's motives were but when he remained silent, Damian spoke instead. 

“Richard died thinking I was dead, didn't he.” It came out as more of a statement than a question. He dreaded the answer but he needed to know.

Drake nodded and Damian felt hollow. “But he loved you very much. He was worried you didn't know.” 

" _ Tt _ . Of course I knew, Richard, you fool." For a moment it looked as if Drake smiled. The cave echoed around them with distant drips of water and chirps of the bats. Damian stared at the empty suit looming above him unblinking until his eyes were dry and stinging.

“Can I see him?” Damian asked in a small voice. Truthfully, he had no desire to see the grave site. No desire to acknowledge this cosmic unfairness and cruelty that he was alive in a world without Richard Grayson. But paying his respects was long overdue and this was another truth he couldn’t run from. 

Besides, he had no doubt his brother had visited  _ him _ . And Richard...he’d be happy to see him.

Drake nodded again then stood and offered a hand. “I’ll take you there.” 

His knee jerk reaction was to resist, slap the hand away and shout that he could go on his own. But the truth was...he didn’t want to. So after a pause, Damian took his hand. 

  
  


**5**

Ivy University. Jason reread the acceptance letter and let out a sharp laugh. Of course Tim got in, fancy side programs included. There was never a doubt. Kid was smart, a genius who could do so much. It was about time he put it to use outside this cave. Pride rose in Jason’s chest. 

_ "You should apply with me Jase, get the English degree you’re always talking about. Red & Red, the procrastinating dynamic duo." _

He dropped the letter back on the desk like it burned him and shoved his helmet on. Tim had used that genius one last time and it had destroyed him. Nothing left but a fucking  _ bo staff _ . If Bruce put that thing in a case, Jason was going to blow the whole fucking cave up. 

Jason revved his motorcycle with a deafening roar, echoing obnoxiously through the cave and probably up into the manor, and shot out. He didn't know what he was looking for as he sped across Gotham, didn't know if he'd find anything. Maybe he was running from something. 

_ “It’s okay man. I’m here. You’re still here. You’re all right.”  _

Jason leapt off his bike, let it fall and skitter across the pavement as he threw himself onto three gun runners he recognized. They fought back but he was better, faster, angrier. Green tinted his vision as he hit harder and harder. Didn't stop until they were bloodied whimpering messes on the filthy ground and then he pulled his gun, leveling it at one of the men's heads. 

Because why did they get a second chance, why did  _ he _ get a second chance, when someone deserving like Tim didn't? Why should they get to live when his little brother was  _ dead _ ? 

His finger twitched on the trigger. 

_ “Tell them I’m sorry. Tell them how much they all meant to me. Dick, Jason–” _

With a frustrated cry of rage, Jason shifted and fired twice into the concrete as the men screamed. “If you  _ ever _ show your face in Gotham again, I’ll kill you.” He snarled. Then he was lifting his battered motorcycle from the street, racing towards the highway. Once he was there, darting between cars, Jason yanked off his helmet. Felt the cold air dry wetness he didn't realize was running down his cheeks. 

At least his body knew what it was doing because his mind didn't know where he was until Dick opened the door. Dick looked shocked. And a mess, practically drowning in a hoodie and sweats with dark bags under his red eyes. 

“I almost killed a man.” Jason said by way of greeting. “I can’t be out there.” With a small noise, Dick grabbed his jacket lapel and pulled him into the apartment. Jason let himself be shoved onto the couch, let Dick drape a blanket over his dirty uniform before disappearing into the kitchen. 

A suit jacket was tossed over the armchair beside the couch. The phantom smell of dirt came with the sight. Jason closed his eyes, swallowed hard. He was spiraling fast now, could feel every suppressed emotion he’d stomped down when the message had come across his comms, when he’d helped lower an empty coffin today.

“Don't mean to be a burden.” He finally managed to say. Because if he was having a hard time then Dick must be in utter  _ agony _ . He’d helped train Tim, raise him, protect him. He had more of a claim to calling him little brother than Jason ever would.

But Tim had called them both his big brothers, called him Robin, said he was  _ glad _ Jason was his family, his teammate,  _ his friend– _

“You're not a burden, Little Wing.” Dick was back and pressing soft ice packs to his knuckles with new focus. “I'm glad you came.” 

Now Jason was too because if making sure his other little brother didn’t kill someone, or get himself killed, was the distraction Dick needed then Jason would happily break a bone or two for him.

“I saw the letter. From Ivy.” Sad blue eyes met his. “B keeps saying all this shit about him being a hero and knowing the risks and maybe he needs to tell himself that but... _ fuck _ , Dickie, this wasn't supposed to happen to him.” Jason whispered in a wrecked voice. “Not Babybird.” 

“I know.” Dick whispered and there was a quiver in his voice, fresh tears gathering in his eyes.

Jason slumped over, let his head fall on his brother's shoulder. “I miss him.” He choked out and Dick's hands tightened around the ice packs, cheek pressed against his hair. 

“I know.” There was a soft sniff. “Me too.”

  
  


**+1**

Breakfast was unsurprisingly skipped this morning. Alfred expected as much when he’d placed protein bars into tired hands earlier this morning. The quiet lasted until about a quarter past eleven. A solemn chime echoed through the front hall and Alfred carefully set his knife aside and wiped his hands clean. Everything was about to come alive all at once.

“Alfie!” Dick sang as the front door swung open. 

“Good morning, Master Dick.” Alfred smiled as he was wrapped up in a warm hug. He patted Dick’s head, remembering how a small boy with a bright smile and too much bravery used to hug his knees. How a man with a shifting face had clung to him in a similar way after a year of grief. “You’re both the first one here and the first one awake.”

Mischief sparked in Dick’s blue eyes. “Not for long.” He cackled, dumping his backpack at the foot of the stairs before taking them two at a time.

“Indeed.” Alfred laughed under his breath as he returned to the kitchen to get the coffee started and continue prepping lunch. Bruce was the first to appear, still bleary, heading straight for the fresh pot of coffee. “Master Dick is here.” He said as Bruce nodded.

“Yes. He greeted me by doing a backflip onto my bed  _ and _ me.” 

“Shall I fetch the x-ray, sir?” 

Shouts echoed from the halls followed by Dick’s hysterical laughter and pounding feet. “A warning next time would be sufficient.” Bruce gave him an exasperated smile as he left. 

The doorbell chimed again and Alfred answered, grabbing something from a small table in the entry. “Master Jason. A pleasure as always.”

“Hiya, Al.” Jason grinned, motorcycle helmet under his arm. “Miss me?” 

“Quite.” Alfred smiled as he was graced with a one armed hug. 

Jason dropped his own backpack and helmet besides Dick’s and fished out a book. “You’re a sly old man, giving me the first of a series and not telling me.” He slapped it lightly into Alfred’s outstretched hand. 

“If you’d visit more often, without the helmet, then I wouldn’t have to stoop to such tricks. Do tell me when you reach chapter fifteen.” He pulled the next book from behind his back and handed it over. “Now, wash your hands. I need help in the kitchen.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Jason gave a mock salute but his eyes were eager, like when he was a teen and happily learning at Alfred’s side, beaming over his culinary masterpieces. 

Alfred returned the book to it’s home in the library and was headed back to the kitchen when Tim smacked into him. “Good heavens Master Tim!”

“Alfred!” Tim gasped. “I can’t find the computer chips I was working on and I have to be at Ivy tonight and oh god, I’m not done packing, but I need them–”

“On the library desk with your electronics books from yesterday.” Alfred said and Tim’s face lit up. He hurriedly moved books and papers on the crowded table until he found them. What a brilliant mind this child had. Ever since he’d first shown up on the Manor doorstep with Dick, buzzing with excitement and chattering about Batman. “Do take a deep breath, Master Timothy. I’m sure Master Dick and Master Jason can be persuaded to help you pack.”

“I guess.” Tim shifted his weight back and forth. “I don’t want to bother them. They didn’t come by to work, it’s their day off and–”

“It’s alright to be nervous.” Alfred gently interrupted, getting to the heart of the issue, and Tim’s mouth snapped shut. “It’s a lot of change isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Tim whispered, looking down. “Everyone’s so excited for me and I am too but now...I know I’ll be close but leaving home is harder than I thought, especially after all that’s happened. I don’t wanna disappoint people.”

“And you won’t my dear boy. You’ll adjust quickly, you always have.” Alfred set a hand on his shoulder and steered him back towards the now noisy kitchen and shouts of  _ ‘Hands off Dickface!’ _ . “Master Dick went through the same thing when he first moved. I’m sure he has plenty of advice about that and packing. As well as the energy for it.” 

Tim laughed. “Poor Jason. Yeah I’ll save him.”

Dick sobered up fast when Tim quietly asked him for help, pestering forgotten as he focused on his little brother with an understanding smile. “Of course I’ll help Timmers! Listen, ‘Haven’s not that far, I could drive up later in the week and help you get more stuff for your place if you need it or we can just hang...” 

They disappeared, leaving Alfred and Jason to cook in peace at last. But Jason was holding his shoulders tight so Alfred patiently waited. “Was talking to Dickie the other day.” Jason said as he closed the oven a few minutes later. “He and Tim convinced me. I’m gonna enroll next semester. Probably not Ivy, it’s a bit far, but somewhere.” 

Alfred laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling them slowly lowering. “You’ll do great things, no matter where you go.” Because he would. This child that had been ripped from them had come back fighting so many things but now he was fighting to reclaim  _ himself _ . Alfred couldn’t be more proud.

"Thanks.” Jason sounded relieved. “I'll tell Bruce tomorrow. Don't wanna steal Timmy's moment."

Damian appeared as they were pulling out plates. “I’d like to help, Pennyworth.” He said, ducking away from Jason before he could ruffle his hair. Jason grinned at the challenge and lunged again as Damian spun away. Alfred cast a quick glance at the counters to make sure no knives were within immediate reach. These two didn’t mind raising the stakes when roughhousing.

“Of course, Master Damian. This platter is ready for you to take after you’ve finished up.”

“I never  _ started _ .” Damian muttered as he surprisingly gave in and let Jason pull him into a cross between a hug and a headlock. 

“Maybe if you ask nicely, Tim will let you drive Redbird while he’s gone.” He ruffled Damian’s hair at last and let the scowling boy go. “I’ll teach you.”

“ _ Tt. _ I’ve been driving since I was eight, Todd. I could give you lessons.” Damian carefully picked up the platter and marched off to the dining room.

Jason looked at Alfred with raised eyebrows. “I think someone’s gonna miss Timmy more than they’re letting on.”

“I have to agree.” It warmed his heart to see how willing Damian was to lower his guard now. Glimpses of the kind, caring boy he is peeking through when he allowed them to. Or when he didn’t realize it like now as Alfred watched Damian get another dish from Jason. He looked so much like Bruce did at that age. Sharp eyes and posture, stumbling into happiness as if they’d never heard of it before. 

“Go on Master Jason, I’m capable of carrying a plate.” Alfred scolded as he shooed the man off to the dining room. Voices drifted in when Jason opened the door, bright and cheerful. It seemed Dick had been able to turn Tim’s mood around after all. 

The table was full when Alfred walked into the cozy informal dining room. Bruce was sitting at the round table, listening to Tim, who was gesturing excitedly as he talked about what he was building with the computer chips. Jason leaned away from Tim’s flailing arm as he nodded enthusiastically at Dick and Damian across the table, the three of them having a completely separate conversation as they passed food around. There was still an empty chair and waiting place setting between Jason and Dick.

It was loud, verging on chaotic as people began crossing over into other conversations, and it was  _ right. _ Setting the food down, Alfred slipped back into the kitchen, setting a hand on the island as emotion rolled deep in his chest. He closed his eyes, smiling, listening to his boys. 

All was well at last.

“Alfred?” 

At Bruce’s voice he lifted his head and turned. “Yes, Master Bruce?” He knew his face was composed but the lingering smile on Bruce’s face said he knew otherwise.

“The boys were asking when you were joining us.” Bruce explained.

“I was simply making sure the oven was off.” Alfred said primly as Bruce clapped his shoulder.

“It’s nice having a full table isn’t it?” He asked, a soft light in his eyes that Alfred hadn’t seen in a long time. 

“It is indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> To make amends for this tidal wave of angst, I'll post some fluff tomorrow...
> 
> Tim's 2nd & 3rd quote are from the comics because _sometimes_ canon can be good.  
> 


End file.
